Fairfield County, Connecticut is the most
southwestern county in the state of Connecticut and the most populous. The
population density is due to its proximity to New York City—it butts up right
against it. In spite of its dense population it really is a beautiful place
with rolling hills and a variety of deciduous trees still trying to forest
those hills in spite of all the people. When I think of it I think of an
established suburbia that in the ancient days of our settlement was sparsely
populated by farmers. You can still see many of those farm houses with little
historical plaques on them. Someone’s name is on the plaque with the date the
house was built, usually in the late 1600’s to early 1700’s. My family owned
and lived in one of those homes in Trumbull for nearly 300 years but then they
moved west to Idaho when my grandmother knew she was losing her battle to
breast cancer. The house was sold, moved a few blocks away and turned into a
veterinary office. About 20-25 years ago it caught fire and burned to the
ground.
I
don’t know just what took my Puritan ancestors from Massachusetts Bay to
Fairfield County and Trumbull, Connecticut but I wouldn’t be surprised if it
was some sort of religious dissension. You would think we would have kept
better track of that if we could keep a house for that many years but, then
again, day to day living has always had a way of getting in the way of memory.
It doesn’t change the fact that I have a strong attachment to that place even
as I live so far away from it and would never actually want to live there. As I
have said in earlier posts, this Potatohead is at heart a New England Yankee so
it is with great affection and distant familial memories that I have a strong attachment
and great love of Fairfield County, Connecticut.
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